I Know You
by Lavender and Hay
Summary: Patrick comes back home to Shelagh, shaken after a difficult night. Post series two speculative oneshot.


She was lying in bed with the light turned out, but awake and waiting, when she finally heard him pad quietly around their bedroom; lifting the covers gently and slipping in beside her. When he had been called out he had told her not to wait for him, to get some sleep instead, that she needed her rest, but she had waited anyway. If she had had her way, she would have been out with him, but Sister Julienne was still adamant that she was not to work nights. She didn't expect him back until late anyway; it must have been a serious case for him to have been called. Then it had got later and later, and she had come up to bed, but was still unable to sleep- tired as she was- until he lay beside her. During the half year they had been married she had grown that used to him.

She did not speak; she relied upon him being able to tell that she was still awake. She knew there was something wrong; he lay still, quite rigidly, beside her and had not reached out to hold her or even touch her. Though she was not touching him, she could feel the tension in his body beside hers. His breathing was quiet but uneven, as if he was upset. He did not sound like he was crying, but there was definite distress in the quiet sounds he was making. She waited, but he did not say anything and nor did he give any signs of his unease abating.

"Darling?" she asked after a while, reaching her hand out under the covers to latch securely around his wrist, "What is it?"

She heard his breath shudder as he sighed; a heavy, heavy sigh, and that was all. But that was all she needed; he did not have to say anything. Him coming back from a call in this state could only mean one thing.

"Oh, darling," she murmured under her breath, "I'm so sorry."

She hated the feeling that he was like this- in any way broken- and was secretly grateful that it was dark and that she did not have to see the sadness in his face; because she knew that sight was enough to rend her heart in two. They moved at the same time; she extended her arms, and he rolled towards her so that they met, their bodies pressing close together; he fell into her arms- his head buried in her shoulder- and she held him. She felt his arms around her middle for a few moments as he took a few ragged sobs against her neck, and finally, as he calmed a little, his hand moved to her front, to her stomach, just beginning to round a touch with the child she was carrying- their child. That seemed to sooth him more, and she felt able to ask carefully, first pressing a kiss into the front of his untidy hair and pressing her cheek against his forehead:

"What happened, my love? Do you want to talk about it?"

"Mrs Finley didn't make it," he told her simply, after a moment, "She haemorrhaged again."

"And her baby?" she asked.

"A boy," he told her, "A little small but healthy given the circumstances."

"Then we must be thankful for that at least," she told him gently, "All life is to be treasured."

He was quiet for a moment, and she would like to hope that his silence was a fraction more contented than it had been a few moments ago.

"You're right of course," he told her quietly, and she felt his arms squeeze a little more tightly around her.

"But it's not much consolation to you," she voiced aloud what she knew he was thinking but was too kind to say, smiling sadly, "I know you, love."

She heard him let out another heavy sigh.

"I should have been there quicker," he said, his voice flat and low, "Perhaps then-..."

"You couldn't have left any sooner than you did," she told him plainly, "You left the door as soon as you'd put the telephone down. You couldn't have done more," her voice was sot and quiet, trying so hard to comfort him, as she repeated, "I know you; you never could do more than you do, you always do so much."

She felt his head sink a little, falling just a little closer, resting against her neck.

"You're wonderful," she whispered, "I love you so much. You mustn't blame yourself."

"I just-..." he began, taking a moment to think, "It just upset me, that's all. More than it normally would have done. Similarities," he murmured.

She knew exactly what he meant.

"Of course it did," she replied soothingly, "It must bring back memories."

"Yes," he murmured softly, "But that wasn't all."

This time she did not.

"What?" she asked him gently.

He took a deep, shuddering breath. She could not see his expression but she could picture his face perfectly; she knew he had his eyes closed. His arms were holding on to her very tightly now.

"All I could think of as I left was what on earth would I do if I lost you, my darling?" he asked her quietly, his voice full of feeling.

She almost gasped.

"Oh, darling," she told him, "You're not going to lose me. You're never going to lose me. I'll never leave you."

She felt his hands move to her stomach again, gently nudging against her, rubbing back and forth over where their child lay.

"I know," he murmured, "I know. But I couldn't help. I just though-... and the thought was so horrible, I couldn't let it go."

"Don't worry about the baby coming," she told him as his hand continued to move, sensing what he was thinking, "I'm not worried."

She was, a little. But equally she knew she would be in the safest hands in all of England with her friends there. And, whatever slight misgivings or worries she had, there was no way on earth that she was going to let on at the moment.

"But you're the bravest person in the world," he told her, "You're hardly ever frightened."

"I am sometimes," she told him. She took a moment then told him, "Those months when I was in the Sanatorium; I remember terrible fear."

"Of dying?" he asked her.

"Of dying without reconciling myself with God," she replied, "Of dying without ever being able to look into your eyes again. Of living and not being able to come to terms with loving you and loving God. I was horribly frightened."

"How did you live with it?" he asked her.

"I closed my eyes," she told him in reply, "Bowed my head. Prayed. Thought of you."

"Oh, darling. Shelagh, darling," lifting his head a little, he looked into her face- the slight light in the room just barely enough to see by, but enough to let their eyes gleam into one another- he kissed her lips briefly, "I'm so sorry I gave you that."

"Don't be," she told him, "Love is all the sweeter now."

She did not so much hear his shuddering breath this time as feel it, deep and pressed against her.

"Life with you," he told her, "Is so sweet."

"And life is short," she told him, "That was the main thing I realised in the sanatorium."

"Is that what... made you decide in the end?" he asked her.

"Yes," she replied, "Life is too short not to be with you."

"I love you so much," he told her, "I can't live without you. I can't face the thought of you not being here with me. Everything about you: your voice, your eyes. I've never felt like this before, _never_."

"Hush, my love," she told him, "I'm never going to leave you. And if I die," she continued firmly, though she heard him give a harsh and painful breath, "If I die, I'll still be with you. Forever. Even in death we are as one, you and I, because we have lived life, and been life to each other. That's how I feel, anyway."

She felt his eyes on her, in the dark.

"You're incredible," he whispered softly.

She kissed his head again.

"You have to sleep," she told him, "I know you won't take the morning off tomorrow."

"No," he agreed, "You know me well."

She gave him a small smile.

"Hold me?" she asked him, and his hand flitted instantly away from her stomach, back around her, to hold her securely to him.

"You're so warm," he murmured, "I love you."

"I love you too, my darling," she told him, settling back into the pillow, "Always."

**End.**

**Please review if you have the time.**


End file.
